The Lives of the Cowboys

SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS. . .brought to you by. . .
Bull Mousse, the first aerosol hair styling product made
especially for harsh weather conditions. The spray is powerful
(SPRAY) so you can use it even in windy conditions, and it keeps you looking attractively well-groomed even in stampedes (TR: Look out! COWS, HORSES), attacks by buzzards
(TR: Look out! SFX), and flash floods (TR: Look out! WATER RUSH). And now…..The Lives of the Cowboys.

(TRAFFIC)

GK: Seattle, Dusty. Beautiful city.

TR: Yessir.

GK: And us with jobs for Foam On The Range coffee. Why didn’t we come here long ago when we were young enough to fit in?

TR: Got no idea.

GK: Decades of eating dust and drinking rotgut whiskey and driving cattle when the price of beef was so low, we were a non-profit operation like a bookstore except without the prestige, chaperoning cattle across the dusty godforsaken plains and suffering mudslides and snakebite and sleeping on the ground, not to mention abject filth and squalor and loneliness, and all as a recreational thing, without earning a dollar, kinda what you might call a meaningless existence ---- we could’ve been homeless in Seattle and accomplished as much and been better rewarded for it.

TR: It’s a sobering thought. Let’s find a saloon.

GK: No drink for you, Dusty. We got a job to do.

TR: Right. I forgot.

GK: Our old pal Slim got us a job through his connections. We go around in our Foam On The Range shirts and we break up traffic jams. Seattle traffic jams.

TR: Right. Two cars meet at an intersection and they start yielding to each other and pretty soon you’ve got a hundred cars backed up, all of them waving for other cars to go first.

GK: It’s why there’s no subway here.

TR: Oh?

GK: County board was stuck in traffic, couldn’t get to the planning meetings on time.

GK: They’re not honking because they’re from Seattle. They’re just using the time to make some phone calls.

TR: C’mon. GIT. MOVE. LET’S GO. (HEEYA) (GUNSHOTS) (WHOOPS) (BRIDGE)

TR: So where’d Slim want to meet us?

GK: Restaurant down here on the waterfront. (FOOTSTEPS)

TR: Probably a fancy one.

GK: I reckon. He’s done well for himself. Selling used jeans. He hires a hundred cowboys to wear jeans and fade em and rip em so he can sell em for more than they’d cost new. Isn’t that something----

TR: You can earn a living just by wearing clothes.

GK: Well, you can earn a living just by talking to yourself.

TR: Where you get a job like that?
GK: Talk radio. People sit and say untrue things, whatever comes into their heads, and get paid good money for it.

TR: They don’t play music on radio anymore?

GK: Not so much. Hey, I think this is the restaurant. The Pink Albatross.
(FOOTSTEPS STOP)

TR: Kinda rich for my blood. People eating grilled
swordfish on a bed of arugula and drinking white wine with an
oak finish and a hint of vanilla, plum, and parsnips. I believe I might excuse myself.

GK: Why?

TR: Why? Why did I stay on the trail all those years? Why does the wind blow from the west? Why does Orion look like that? Why does God allow two people to make bad mistakes all their lives? And why is that dog up there wearin a bandanna and a holster with a sixgun?

GK: That dog looks mean. I don't like the way it's looking at us. (DOG BARKS. AGAIN. A SERIOUS BARK. A QUIET GROWL)

SS: I came to Seattle to find my twin sister and tell her to come back home.

GK: Aha.

SS: And there she is now---- at that table----- eating escargot with that Frenchman. I’m going to go slap her face. (FOOTSTEPS)

TR: I’m gonna excuse myself, pardner.

GK: C’mon, Dusty. Stick with me.

TR: I’m not one for getting in fights between women. Adios, amigo. (FOOTSTEPS)

GK: Oh boy. Abandoned with twin sisters in a catfight and a dog with a sixgun and itching to use it.

TR (FRENCH)

SS: Well, looky looky looky. Ain’t you something?

SS: What’s your problem, Heather?

SS: I come to bring you back to the ranch, Rose.

SS: Oh yeah?

SS: Yeah.

SS: Like to see you try it.

SS: Careful what you wish for.

TR (FRENCH)

GK: Ladies-----please.

SS: Beg your pardon?

GK: Wrong word. Women---- please.
SS: Look at her in her hiking boots and North Face fleece vest as if she were a sheepherder and that pale, milky skin tells you the truth. Hasn’t seen sunlight in months. Walks outside in the mist to moisturize. Drinks iced latte and rides around on a bicycle and flies her kite on the banks of Lake Union and gets wet and walks around in squishy socks and underwear and dries out around a bonfire in Golden Gardens, and that’s her life.
SS: You’re crazy, Heather. Crazy and dangerous.
SS: You’re the danger. To our entire society. You and all of the socialist anarchist pacifist yuppie goddesses like you. (SMALL DOG GROWL) What’s that rat doing on your lap?
SS: It’s my dog.
TR (FRENCH)
SS: Yeah, well, meet my dog, Rex. (LOW GROWL) What breed of rodent is that?
SS: Mitzi? She’s a Shih Tsu.
SS: Watch your language.
SS: See this black collar? She’s a black belt in Yuk To Twa. She’s liable to decapitate your dog with one swift kick.
SS: Oh yeah?
SS: Yeah.
TR (FRENCH)
GK: What’s your friend trying to say?
SS: He’s inviting you to sit down and have a glass of wine.
SS: Wine---- ha. (SHE HAWKS AND SPITS)
GK: Women----- sisters ------- surely you can put aside these little differences and enjoy this rare day of sunshine.
SS: She’s standing in my light ---- tell her to move, she’s throwing a shadow on my escargot.
SS: Back on the ranch, we don’t eat worms. (DOG SNARL)
(LITTLE DOG SNARL)
(BIG DOG BARKS)
(LITTLE DOG SNARL)
(BIG DOG GROWLS, SPINS CYLINDER IN GUN)
GK: Tell your dog to put the gun down, ma’am.
SS: Easy, Rex.
GK: You know, if I may offer a suggestion ----- I just feel that a good cup of coffee can do so much to bring people and dogs together. Wine is fine in its place, but coffee is the sacrament of peace. And when it comes to making peace, there’s nothing like (STRUM GUITAR)

GK (SINGS):

Foam, Foam, on the Range, Where the coffee is strictly gourmet.
Where guys like Wyatt Earp
ask for hazelnut syrup
In the grande size mocha latte.

O I’ll flip my lid just like Billy the Kid
For espresso that crinkles your lips
On the Oregon Trail it is served by the pail
With a plate of fried buffalo chips.

SS: Well, look at that. (DOGS LAPPING)

GK: Those dogs go for coffee foam too.

SS: Kinda gets my goat, paying big bucks for a lot of air and bubbles.

GK: But if it brings peace, why not-----

TR (DUSTY): Hey, pardner. We got work to do.

GK: Dusty---- like you to meet Slim. (TR FRENCH) You’d never know he used to be a cowboy, wouldja.

Lovingly selected from the earliest archives of A Prairie Home Companion, this heirloom collection represents the music from earliest years of the now legendary show: 1974–1976. With songs and tunes from jazz pianist Butch Thompson, mandolin maestro Peter Ostroushko, Dakota Dave Hull and the first house band, The Powdermilk Biscuit Band (Adam Granger, Bob Douglas and Mary DuShane).